


Drabbles

by mneiai



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: (it's the sylar/peter one obvs), Episode: s01e20 Five Years Gone, F/M, M/M, Minor Sexual Assault, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:19:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: Drabble request fills. Mostly 5YG.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More old drabble request fills

_After Nathan becomes President...._

Nathan didn’t know why he did this—but an empty bed, rooms that had never, would never, suffer through the noise of boys playing rough with a foot ball before their grandmother started to scold them…these were more appalling things.

He walked forward and threw aside the tie he had already pulled off, started on the buttons of his shirt. Sylar was never the first to undress, he preferred standing in the long shadows of the room, watching Nathan as he made himself as visibly vulnerable as he actually was. It was easy to remember, meeting those hooded eyes, that this was the man who had managed to kill his brother, once. Easier to remember that this was the man who, by being so easily framed, had helped to save him, too.

When Nathan was nude, sculpted body flushed with heat despite the soft hum of the air conditioning, he climbed onto the bed, slipping over Egyptian cotton sheets and wondering how he would explain this. To anyone. 

Peter would see it as a betrayal (wasn’t it?), Parkman would be disgusted, and Mohinder…Mohinder might understand. Nathan had never gotten the full story about his time with Sylar, had seen the strained looks Mohinder gave whenever he saw Sylar’s picture or heard his name. As soon as Nathan wondered if Sylar knew about the brief affair he’d had with his scientific adviser, Nathan knew it was so. Could possibly be the reason that Sylar had taken any interest in him, in the first place.

The telekinesis brushed over him before the hands, which gripped him roughly, gave no concern for the delicate skin of someone who had spent over a decade worrying more about appearances than ability. Sylar in the darkness was what he should be, harsh lines and overstated proportions, as if he was a caricature of Nathan. He had asked, once, when his defenses weakened, if Sylar could become him, take his form and let him know what others saw in him. It had been alluring, but terrifying—Sylar played Nathan better than Nathan did.

And there are other things Sylar does better, because Sylar knows how to touch a man like Nathan didn’t know could be done. And Sylar, with his stolen power, could touch everywhere, at once, inside and out. He took Nathan to such heights. It had been the same for months, since Nathan had found Sylar in his bedroom, radiating with cold rage, eyeing the slight mark Mohinder had left on his neck. Nathan hadn’t really understood it, but hadn’t had time to react before he was propelled backwards, slamming into a wall, then feeling Sylar’s body slam into his.

The kiss had been all teeth in a way that didn’t speak of inexperience, but more of a feral hatred sublimated into lust. Nathan had never felt anything like it, not from his former girlfriends when they were having one final fling before breaking up, not from Heidi when she found out about one of his affairs, not even from Peter after Peter thought he had lost him. Sylar was a primal force that somehow skipped humanity and went on to be strictly other.

Nathan just wondered how long it would be until he became a bore and Sylar realized that he could have everything, with one little movement of a finger.


	2. Matt/Nathan

_Before Nathan becomes president...._

Matt could never understand why it was so hard to read Nathan’s mind, as if there were natural walls up around the man’s every thought. It often drove Matt to new heights of creativity, attempting to get the man to release some sign that the things around them were affecting him. He’d almost died, had been prepared to die, and Matt wondered if it was that Zen like knowledge that allowed him to escape the everyday sort of thoughts that others had. Or perhaps it was his bitch queen mother, or being his brother’s brother. 

All Matt knew was that if he didn’t find out, soon, whether he could actually read Nathan’s mind, he wasn’t sure he could work for him. The offer was perfect, was Matt helping others and stopping the bad guys, just what he always wanted to do with his life, but with a much higher pay rate and better benefits. But could he trust Nathan? Even Peter had a hard time trusting Nathan at times, and they loved each other (how much, Matt would never know, all he ever got from Peter was the migraine-causing feedback of attempting to read another telepath). 

So, he had come up, finally, with a plan. He had started doing small things, little shocks to wake Nathan out of the near-fugue state he existed in. But they weren’t working, all the were doing him was getting him annoyed glances and exasperated sighs.

Weeks after starting, Matt was almost to the end of the long list of actions he had, was on the very last one. It wasn’t as creative as some of the others, but it was an old standard. And it was so much easier to lean forward into Nathan’s personal space than it was to somehow find an elephant and a biodegradable swing set. 

Their lips met, and for the first time since Matt had met Nathan, stumbling after his brother after another escape near-capture by Primatech, Matt felt something clicking in his mind, like a box with rusty hinges being opened. He heard, in the distinct voice of a person’s mind speak, “What the FUCK?” before he was pushed back, laughing, as Nathan’s eyes narrowed into a scowl.

“Very funny, Parkman, are you done now?” 

Matt shrugged jovially. He had proven to himself that Nathan still had thoughts, now he just had to find a way to keep them out in the open.


	3. Peter/Mohinder (Nathan/Mohinder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Mohinder's first meeting after the explosion, in secret....

“You’re sleeping with my brother.” 

The first words out of Peter Petrelli’s mouth after not having seen him in two years were not the ones Mohinder was expecting. Anything from “I can’t believe you’re taking part in this Orwellian fuck up” to “nice scarf” would have been less surprising. He hadn’t known anyone to ever comment on his relationship with the president, even if it was the best kept secret after Watergate.

“I, er, yes. I am.” They both stood in the silence of the abandoned building for entire moments before Peter threw his hands up and started to pace around the room.

“Did he convince you it was for your own good? Or, no, I know, it’s something to do with national security? Or his poor widdle heart is broken and he needs a comforting, knowing man to help him pick up the pieces?” If it was anyone else, Mohinder would say that their eyes were blazing, but he had seen Peter’s eyes when they were literally ablaze, and this was still slightly duller than a radioactive Peter could manage.

“No, I actually…it was me who instigated the….”

“Stop, it wasn’t.”

Mohinder frowned. “Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t you, he made you THINK it was you. That’s how he does it, he convinces you that it’s your idea, that it’s a good idea, and then, before you know it, you’ve sent all the staff home and are playing naked Marco Polo in the swimming pool.” The silence now was of a different sort. “Not…that I know anything about that.”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not.”

“But I was the one who started it. He…reminds me of someone I used to know.” Peter rolled his eyes. “No, it was me.” Mohinder caught up to Peter’s pacing form and grabbed his arm. “We were up one night going over research, I was tipsy after a dinner party, I grabbed his arm while he was monologuing, like this, and then I,” Mohinder cut himself off and kissed Peter, lips softer than Peter had ever imagined them to be (and, at least in his own mind, he could admit to having thoughts about Mohinder’s lips), “kissed him,” he finished once he moved back and stepped away.

“Oh.” Peter coughed, shifted, felt shaky. “Well, um, are you two exclusive?”


	4. Sylar/Mohinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the explosion....

Mohinder had managed to live with the knowledge of Sylar’s existence for an entire year before he kissed him. It wasn’t a reward, he wasn’t saying “thank you for saving my life when Peter exploded and took out a good chunk of New York,” but it wasn’t a punishment, it wasn’t “you killed my father/girlfriend/friends and now I’m going to make you suffer, if the only way I can do it is by breaking your heart.”

The kiss was simply a kiss, flavored by chai they’d been drinking (Sylar found it ironic) and the vanilla ice cream that Sylar had been eating before that. There had been a moment of confusion as they’d adjusted, took note of whose nose was where and what style of kisser the other was. There’d been Sylar’s hands gripping his hair hard enough to almost hurt, his nails digging into Sylar’s shoulders and the back of his neck. And then there’d been the separation, the end of it as they sucked in short gasps of air.

It had been perfect, as perfect as anything Sylar had ever built.


	5. Sylar/Matt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylar as President

A few years down the line, Mohinder would ask Matt how long he had known. He’d answer truthfully—almost the entire time. It hadn’t been hard to figure out, he doesn’t think Sylar was even trying to hide from him. His thoughts were different than Nathan Petrelli’s, so very different, and he’d think damning things, knowing that Matt was in the room. 

Matt hadn’t needed a lot of time to think it over and realize he had to confront the imposter. It took all of four minutes for him to come to that realization, he knew because of the tick-tock of a clock that radiated through his mind whenever he was close to Sylar. And at the very moment he’d decided he could have sworn that Sylar had killed Peter, had found a way to become a telepath without killing Matt, because he looked him right in the eyes and gave a smile that was so very Sylar while at the same time being completely Nathan.

But Matt didn’t make an actual move until everyone else had been dismissed, until it was just he and Sylar, alone, in the Oval Office. He drew his gun, knowing it would be useless, and made the common threats, the accusations. Sylar took it all in calmly, than picked a file up off of the president’s desk and threw it at him.

He caught it one handed, flipping it open and skimming through the first page. “This isn’t possible.”

“Why not?” Sylar leaned on the antique desk, looking like Nathan posing for a photo shoot. “Did you believe Petrelli was some sort of saint? That either of them were?” He nodded his head at a stack of files as Matt felt a distinctive sinking feeling. “Nathan was planning on exterminating us. Even you. The only ones he doesn’t blatantly list in his ‘secret’ files are himself and Peter.”

Matt swallowed and let the file drop to the floor, ignoring the picture of himself staring up at him. He grabbed the others and began leafing through them, finding all the names that they had given to Homeland Security…and all the names they hadn’t. Somehow Nathan had gotten information that Matt thought only Noah had access to. Somehow he had gotten files made up and, worse, came up with scenarios for exterminating each one of them.

“You see, you could say I’m doing all of us a favor. Nathan would let the world fall into the hands of the un-evolved, the monkeys that still have far too much control over this planet than they should. He’s already built his prisons and internment camps, what more could he want from us?”

It was easy to ignore the fact it was Sylar when Nathan seemed so much more the villain. Matt had helped him, had gone along with him as he hid Peter’s involvement in the explosion, as long as his wife and son would be protected, as long as those with powers who were harmless would be allowed to go into hiding. This hadn’t been anywhere in any of their strategies.

“And you’ll do any better?” 

Sylar smiled, shrugged. “Well, you wouldn’t expect me to be a good little president, would you? I know where I am on the food chain. But I know that it’s necessary for us to survive. There’s some of us who are worthy of our powers, after all. Nathan wasn’t.” He paused to flip through a few of the files himself, raising an eyebrow at Matt as the name his son had assumed became clear. “Tell me, Parkman, if you could fly, would you fear your power? Would you only ever use it in the direr of situations? Nathan viewed his own race the same way that those lesser humans view us.

“You could help me, in ways that Nathan would never consider having you help. The two of us can find a way to police our own kind behind the cover of arresting all of them. We could make our own little world, where your family,” he looked back at the pictures, “and those I care about would be safe and sound. It’s more than what Petrelli would have ever given you, obviously.”

Matt swallowed and found himself nodding along, because Sylar’s words were exactly in line with Sylar’s thoughts, and that in itself was relaxing. He’d never met anyone who said exactly what they thought, who filtered nothing. It was an amazing thing to witness. And distracting enough that Matt didn’t notice right away when Sylar came close to him and slid his lips over his cheeks, to his lips, pressing into a chaste kiss.

“We have that out of the way,” Sylar stated with a smirk, “now if you’re planning on betraying me, just go ahead and do it. I’m sure you’ll be intrigued to find out how long a human body can live with part of its brain missing.”


	6. Peter/Sylar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During 5YG

Peter could recall the last time he had hurt this badly—it had been as Ted’s powers welled up inside of him, filling him to the brim and then overflowing, crashing through him and half of the city. The pain of it, of attempting to fight it, had convinced him that he would die, that there were some things even Claire’s power couldn’t fix. When he woke up, alive and almost entirely whole, he’d been shocked and shaken. Despite everything Nathan tried to do to help him, he still felt the phantom pains of his body being blown apart, dispersing into particles, and then being forced back together despite the drive not to be.

That had been the last time he had hurt this badly, this time was something else entirely. Sure, Ted’s power had been in use, but Peter knew how to control it, it took one huge explosion and suddenly he was a master at controlling the radioactivity of it. No amount of control, though, had stopped Sylar from making a mess of him. He’d only gotten stronger as Peter hid away in Vegas, drowning his sorrows in alcohol and Niki. Some of the powers Sylar had displayed Peter had never even heard of, let alone met people with them.

In the end, it was simple telekinesis that brought him down, support beams torn from the walls wrapping around him so tightly that even Niki’s strength couldn’t help him. And then, after covering him in them, Sylar had somehow melted them, molten messes of metal flowing all over Peter, burning him raw over and over as his body attempted to mend. It was gratuitous, torture, but Peter hadn’t been expecting anything less.

“You know, Pete—I can call you Pete, can’t I? Of course I can, I’m the closest thing to Nathan, now—you know, Pete, we could have worked something out. I’ve heard quite a few things about the ‘new you.’ We would have gotten along. But you always have to go and ruin things, don’t you. Interrupting me and Mohinder so that I couldn’t get the List, blowing up New York City, abandoning your brother when you got just a bit too emo to deal with him and leaving him wide open for me to come in and…well.” Sylar was smiling, as if what was happening was somehow all in good cheer, like they really were brothers and this was some simple wrestling on the living room floor.

“Fuck. Off.”

The laughter that greeted that comment was unhinged, matching the way Sylar’s face lit up as Peter continued his struggles. He couldn’t concentrate, with Sylar so close, using so many powers, it was confusing Peter’s body and mind, there was so much he could call upon, but what would work, how could he make it work, how could he possibly defeat Sylar? He felt himself losing control and quickly centered himself. Hiro could still be in the building, and Hiro was vital. If they ever wanted to stop this madness, they needed him.

“I plan on it, I’m going to go in there,” he pointed down the hallway, “and I’m going to kill your little friends, if they aren’t already dead. Then I’m going to use this opportunity to reunite with Mohinder—he’s missed me so—and then I’m going to go, and I’m going to order that all of the other special people out there get a shot of the ‘cure.’ And they’re all going to die.”

Sylar was crouched besides Peter, running his fingers over the metal as it cooled, re-melting it so that Peter didn’t have enough time to recuperate. Peter whimpered, then stopped himself, reminding himself that this was the man who killed his brother and committed countless atrocities in his name. He bit down on his lip to keep himself from saying anything, not even wincing as another wave of the torture caused him to bite clear through the flesh, blood welling up in contrast to his teeth.

“Uhoh, looks like you hurt yourself.” Peter saw Sylar’s tongue peaking out just before he licked the blood from Peter’s lips, devouring his mouth in a semblance of a kiss. “Mm, nummy. Though, all that does is make me hungry for something else.” 

There was no metal on Peter’s head and they both knew why. It was the second time he’d felt his forehead being sliced open by a force he couldn’t see, could barely feel beyond more pain being added, wondering how much more he could take before his nerves just shut down and shock set in.

“With your powers, I don’t even have to worry about getting a hold of the bodies of the more…interesting…people I have killed. I just have to be in the same room as them. Thanks, Pete.”


	7. Claire/Ted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Landslide

She was just a kid, but even if she hadn’t been a beautiful piece of jail bait, Ted would have still wanted her—he couldn’t hurt her, nothing he did would end with her lying in a hospital bed, wasting away. And for all it was unsettling to watch her flesh fill out and her skin re-grow after exposure to enough radiation to turn most people into ash, it was also encouraging. Ted wasn’t so much of a freak that he’d kill all the other freaks, too.

She looked at him with those bright eyes and her sad smile, and he couldn’t resist. He pressed his lips against hers, for the first time since manifesting his powers able to ignore the feeling of energy swirling too close to the surface. 

When he pulled back, her smile was still in place, but her eyes were just as sad. Neither of them spoke, but she leaned her head against his shoulder and he gripped her hand, tightly, as they waited.


End file.
